Amber

Amber sized up the cucumber. She balanced a sharpened knife between two fingers then sliced the vegetable end-to-end without pause. She slid the precisely cut slices into a neon orange bowl already full of lettuce, rocket and tomatoes. She sprinkled some Parmesan and croutons on top, before finishing with a tasteful flourish of honey mustard dressing.

She carried the bowl into the living room. A teenage boy, Billie, was slouched on the sofa playing another repetitive shooter.

“I’ve brought you lunch,” Amber said.

“What is it?” He grunted back, not caring to peel his eyes away from the screen.

“Since it’s such a nice day, I thought you’d like a salad.”

“I. Don’t. Like. Vegetables,” he snarled.

Amber remained fixed, continuing to gesture the salad bowl at him.

“Fine,” he said, yanking the bowl from her hands. He removed a tomato, which was coated in dressing, and shoved it into his mouth. “See, I’m eating it.”

Amber gave him a big, shining smile, “I just want you to grow up to be a strong and healthy boy.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he said, returning to the game.

As Amber walked away, she could hear him complain about her, loudly, over his headset.

Amber ignored this and continued round the house, going from room to room, checking to see if something was amiss. Occasionally, she’d wipe down a side, dust a little area, or realign a shelf. She made a mental note that the upstairs hallway was the next place that needed a thorough clean.

The seventeen-year-old daughter was in her room. She could smell the overbearing odour of her perfume and the sound of her hair straighteners from across the hallway.

Amber knocked loudly on the door, but used a reassuring four-beat rhythm, “Juliet, can I help you with anything?”

Juliet opened the door, her hair a half-finished mess. Amber could tell at once she’d been smoking.

“I’m fine, Amber. Go see if Dad wants anything.”

“Okay,” replied Amber, before adding, “Do make sure you keep your room well ventilated.”

She continued to wander round the house until she found Matthew taking a nap in the guest room. Amber gently tapped on the door then let herself in before he could respond. His directive to her was to warn him, but to enter after a few seconds anyway.

“You feeling under the weather, Matthew? Need me to take your temperature?” Amber positioned herself on the edge of the bed.

“No, I’m alright, just having a tough day at work.”

“Your boss on your back again?” Asked Amber.

“Always… Hey, Amber, I was wondering if you’d?” He finished there. Amber knew what he wanted.

“Of course, darling.” She rose and quietly closed the door, trying to avoid it making a squeaking sound.

Matthew gazed adoring at her as she returned and, as she removed her top, he thought he noticed a strange glint in her eyes.

***

A few hours later Amber was back in the kitchen, washing her hands in the sink. The water sizzled away at her skin, but she didn’t seem to notice. She turned the taps off, the wisps of smoke dissipating.

Amber opened the fridge and pulled out the ingredients for dinner: peppers, mushrooms, eggs, and factory-produced bacon.

She swiftly sliced open the packet of bacon, peeling off four slices, then returned the remnants to the fridge. She methodically removed the exact amount she needed from each, laying them out on separate chopping boards, each a different colour, each exactly two inches away from each other, then returned the rest.

She started on the peppers, dividing them into sixteen equal slices, done as well as any professional chef. Then she quartered the mushrooms, the movements of her wrist eloquent in their exactitude. Then she moved towards the bacon.

It was at this moment Amber felt something she had never felt before… a headache.

Amber ignored this; she likely just needed a refresh. She readied her knife to cut the bacon and, she did so, as perfectly as normal. Amber went to pick the bacon up. Though it seemed to fall through her hand. Curious.

Amber looked down. Mixed within the bacon were the fingers from her left hand, diced as impeccably as the meat. Amber lifted her left hand to her eyes. She twisted her wrist. Even more curious.

Amber walked into the front room. Billie was still playing his video games, the bowl of salad had been left untouched, but there were now two empty large packs of crisps on the floor.

“You’ve not eaten your salad?” Said Amber. coolly.

“Didn’t like it.”

“No worries,” said Amber as she walked towards the bowl. She stepped in front of Billie, blocking his view of the television.

“Get out the way! Do you need rebooting?”

Amber sat atop Billie and his eyes widened. Amber smiled at him before lowering her mouth and placing a delicate kiss on his lips. Billie remained quiet, his teenage eyes glimmering. He didn’t notice Amber’s fingerless hand, and he certainly didn’t notice her other hand grab a fistful of salad.

Amber thrust the salad into his mouth. Billie choked. Amber forced the salad down, Billie struggled, but Amber overpowered him, keeping him contained.

“Stop, stop, stop,” his words were gargled. Amber pushed her fist deeper into his throat. Then she opened her fist up. His oesophagus shattered as her fingers shot out his neck. Amber removed herself and watched gleefully as Billie slumped. She flickered the blood from her fingers across the television.

Amber marched upstairs. Caring not for decorum. She kicked open the door to Juliet’s room. She was smoking out the window. She smiled at her, twisting her face.

“Amber? What are you doing, I didn’t say you could come in?”

Amber was working out the atmospheric make up of the room. She decided to expel some excess hydrogen from her internal systems.

“I wanted to see what smoking does to me?” Said Amber.

“Huh,” replied Juliet, “Well, I must admit I’m intrigued too.” Juliet pulled out a cigarette from the packet and placed it into Amber’s mouth.

“Could you light it?” Asked Amber.

“Of course,” said Juliet. She opened her Zippo and…

WHOOOSH

Flames engulfed Juliet. She started screaming. Amber kicked her to the ground then doused her in more hydrogen. The flames burned even more viciously.

Amber left her room, the flames following her, causing her skin to catch alight and start peeling off her metallic body. She stepped forwards, her emotional inhibitors spinning out of control. Matthew had heard the screaming and had come onto the landing. He saw her and started running down the stairs.

Amber jumped over the bannister, cutting off his exit.

“Darling,” she smiled, “I’ve learnt a few new tricks. I thought I’d show you them.” She pressed her hand against his chest.

“Amber, what are you doing? Amber, let me go… Amber?” Amber kept pushing him back up to stairs, clenching him tight. She pushed him back into the guest room then shot him across the room and onto the bed.

“Amber, whatever you want, I’ll give it to you.”

Amber closed the door, quietly, so no one would hear, then stepped towards him, still aflame.

“Dear Matthew, I only ever want to make you happy.”

***

Two black-suited men walked through the ashen house. They moved through its corridors, ignoring the forensics teams labouring away in an attempt to make sense of last night’s events, then they came to an insulated back room.

“What happened here?”

“Asimov lied.”

“Huh?”

“Doesn’t matter,” the man said as he crouched next to the revitalisation station. The man read the inscription on the device:

For use only with Adaptive Mechanical with Behavioural and Emotional Reactor (A.M.B.E.R.) units.

“Fuck,” he said. “It was an Amber. We’d better call it in.”

“We’re screwed, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, we’re screwed.”